All because of a cough
by StarsOfYaoi
Summary: *Mother-hen Ita, implied Bad friends trio on Ita* Spain comes sick at a Nation meeting, and Italy's mother-hen side comes out to play. Prussia and France were just jealous and had to jump in, too...


**SOY:** from the kink meme I bring you… Italy being a mother hen. And someone trying to exploit this :D

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**Rating**: PG, even though if France and Prussia had their way, it'd be over MA

**Warnings:** nothing much.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia.

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**All because of a cough**

**One–shot**

Italy bounced in the meeting room with a plate filled with cookie in his hands, and looked around, smiling brightly. "_Buongiorno a tutti_!"

England nodded at him from the other end of the table, and Japan waved his hand at him, fidgeting. America stopped mid–rant and waved wildly at him, yelling something about food that Italy didn't quite get.

"Ve~" looking around, Italy was quite disappointed that Germany was not there, but noticed Prussia in his stead (he was still East Germany, after all), right next to France and Spain. "Gil~ Antonio~ Francis~"

As he got closer to the trio, though, Italy realised that something was wrong. Both Prussia and France were crowding around Spain, laughing at something Italy couldn't see, and Spain was sighing, and covering his mouth with one hand.

Finally reaching the three, Italy leaned forwards, attracting their attention, "Ve… is there something wr–"

A coughing fit from Spain stopped him mid–question, and Italy backed away, surprised.

"Ah, Feligiano~" the Spanish nation turned around, smiling. "Id's zo nige do zee you!"

France chuckled loudly, also looking at the Italian. "Oh, _bonjour, petit_ Feli~"

Prussia was far too busy laughing at Spain's expenses to even turn around, and his laughing fit turned even louder when Spain started sneezing, pitifully covering his face with his hands.

"Id's no good do mogk be," Spain sniffled, hugging himself, and staring up at Italy with big, watery eyes.

"It surely is, _mon ami_," France patted him on the back, probably a bit stronger than needed. "Getting the flu because he went with us to swim in the lake at midnight~"

"Ve~" Italy pushed France away, much to the latter's shock, and enveloped Spain in a gentle hug. "_Povero_ Antonio~"

Spain found himself suddenly cuddled close by Italy, and his eyes widened considerably in surprise. "I–"

"Ah~ don't speak, don't speak, you'll only make your throat hurt, ve~" Italy quickly let him go, fishing a clean handkerchief out from a pocket and offering it to the Spanish nation. "Here, use this!"

Spain held the kerchief close to his chest, tearing up at how nice Italy was being with him, and was quite unable to even use it. "Ah, dhank you!"

Italy smiled and pressed a cool hand on his forehead. Spain moved into the touch, nuzzling at the hand with a small smile, and Italy cooed down at him.

He really looked sick, poor thing, and Italy felt a sudden wave of protectiveness wash over him; he couldn't let Spain alone like this, but the meetings wouldn't be adjourned anytime soon, and knowing England, he would surely not let Spain go away before everything was settled down… not to mention half of the daily's subjects had something to do with Spain, one way or the other…

"Ve, don't worry, Antonio, it'll get better, if you can only manage it till the end of the meetings… I'll try to make everybody behave, _sì_?"

Spain smiled at him again, grateful, then stared at the Italian in shock as he stood up straighter, pout–glaring at France and Prussia.

"You two are so mean, ve~" he gently swatted Prussia in the arm. "Poor Antonio is suffering here! Be nice!"

Flushing, Prussia stared at Italy as if enraptured, and France licked his lips; both of them hovered over Italy who, blissfully ignorant of their attention, turned towards Spain once more.

"I'll go ask if I can get you warm milk and honey~"

Spain flushed crimson and watched him bounce out of the room, dropping the cookies next to Japan.

France and Prussia stared at each other above Spain's head, then both of them dawned on the handkerchief, grabbing a corner of it each; Spain had enough presence of spirit to clutch at the middle before the kerchief was being pulled from one side to the other by the two other Nations.

"Let it go! It's Feli's _mouchoir_!"

"It's gonna be mine! I'm the only one awesome enough to have it! Let it –_go_!"

"Led id go! He gave id do be!" Spain wailed, clutching at it with all his fading strength.

"Keep _**silent**_!"

Switzerland had had enough of all the yelling –he stood up, grabbed his gun and pointed it to the ceiling, firing twice, then pointed the gun at the three friends, face twisted into an angered grimace. France and Prussia both let go of the handkerchief, backing away from Spain, who pitifully held the poor thing to his chest again, nursing it and sniffling hard.

"Gilbert! Francis! Away! I don't want to hear you two bitch for the rest of the meeting! Or there will be consequences".

France and Prussia shivered, properly chastised, and threw a grating look at Spain, knowing they wouldn't let that slide.

"Ve~ Antonio, I'm back!"

Italy smiled and offered Spain the cup of warm milk he'd fetched for him, then after a small hesitation, sat down at his side, as the seat next to him had been vacated by Prussia, who was now fidgeting next to Latvia.

"Ah, dhanks Feli…" Spain grabbed the milk and sipped it, instantly feeling better as the warm, sweet liquid slid down his throat.

"_Prego_, Antonio~" Italy fumbled around with something in his pocket, and as the meeting finally started –Switzerland still caressing the gun in his hand– he grabbed the hem of Spain's shirt and tried to lift it.

Spain's cheeks flushed crimson and for a moment everything blurred out of focus, as the heat rushing to his head was enough to make him dizzy.

"Ah… F–Feli?!"

"You're all red~ you might have fever, and if you have fever, you can leave the meeting early!" Italy's cheeks were flushed in determination, eyes open in worry. "Let me get your temperature now~"

Something cold was pressed against his armpit and Spain squealed, recoiling from the coolness, but Italy gently moved his arm down and kept it still, lowering his shirt again.

"There, there, now you just have to wait for a moment" he cooed, holding the cup to his lips. "Drink some more, ve~"

France and Prussia, two seats away on each side, once again shared a look between them, the same determination clear in their stares; they had to get Italy to do the same things to them, too! It couldn't pass unpunished, after all!

"Feli, I don't feel that well…" Antonio wheezed, shivering in cold. He wasn't completely wasted yet, but he still felt sick, even though Italy's presence at his side, the soft touches, the overall gentleness, was making him feel coddled, and Spain revelled in that feeling. "I–it's cold".

Shrugging off his jacket, Italy covered up Spain's shoulders with it, wrinkles of worry appearing on his forehead. "Wait a moment more, Antonio…"

Italy was about to take the thermometer back from Spain, but England had finished presenting his points and called out his name, clearing his throat. Italy jumped slightly, not having noticed it was his turn, and quickly stood; he was so caught with Spain's clear sickness that it took him a moment to gather all his paperwork, throwing glances at the Spanish nation at his side before deciding that he had to be quick, so he could go back to him.

"I really have nothing much to say, my boss sent me with a few international trades for Alfred," America waved at him again, munching on a burger "and then…"

He spoke efficiently and quickly, still glancing from time to time at Spain, who was now huddling inside his jacket, for once not thinking about pasta nor siesta, and also completely unaware of the shocked gazes of the other Nations gathered around the table, quite shocked at his sudden business–like fashion.

The moment he had the last paper signed by China, Italy threw everything to the side and flopped down on his seat, barely looking as Belgium took his place.

"Ve~ 37.5°C," Italy pouted at the thermometer, lips curling downwards. "It's not as high as I expected, but you are still feverish… you should not stay here, Antonio… why don't we go home? I'll prepare you a soup and read something for you~"

Spain's cheeks flushed at the offer. Go home early and have Italy play nurse? Was he dead and gone to heaven?

"Ah, F–Feli… I…"

"Feli… I feel sick…" Prussia coughed into his hand, eyes drooping slightly, posture relaxed on the table.

"_Oui_, I think I might have gotten whatever flu _cher_ Antonio caught, too…" France whined, holding the back of his hand to his forehead, moaning pitifully.

Spain groaned, shaking his head. So it looked like the two were sick, too? Well, it served them well! Damn them and their idea of swimming in a cold lake at midnight…

"Can I have a cookie, please? I'm sure your delicious sweets would help me overcome this flu…" France sneezed, shaking his head.

With a soft smile, and ignoring the suspicious looks that Switzerland and England were throwing at the 'sick' duo, Italy grabbed one of the cookies he brought over and offered it to France, whose hand was trembling so much that he couldn't keep the hold on it.

"Ve~ poor Francis…"

Italy took hold of the cookie and brought it to France's lips, not paying attention to how those lips threatened to close around his own fingers as well as the cookie.

France took a slow, small bite, licking the crumbles away from his lips, and smiled at Italy, who smiled back. "Your cooking is _très bon_, as usual, Feli…"

"_Gott_, my head hurts…" Prussia groaned, pushing all his weight back to the back of the chair, and whined loudly. "Feli, could you give me the thermometer please?"

Italy placed the cookie on the table and rushed back towards Prussia, gently placing a hand on his forehead, humming. "You don't feel that hot, Gil…"

"Oh, but Feli… I am really, really _hot_…" Prussia purred, rubbing his face at Italy's hand.

"I think I would like to use that thermometer myself, Feli…" France interjected, biting down on the cookie.

"Ah, ve~ yes, yes, here, Gil, use it first," Italy, now worried for the other two as well, stood up and held the thermometer to the albino, who grabbed it and pushed it under his armpit, moaning lightly and sneezing theatrically.

Spain groaned, curling more inside Italy's jacket, fine shivers running down his back, and Italy returned at his side in an instant, kissing his forehead. "Don't worry, Antonio, we're all going home now, just let me see if Francis and Gil have fever, too…"

Under the shocked yet knowing gaze of England, the only one who was paying attention to them at that point, Prussia quickly removed the thermometer and rubbed it repeatedly on his sleeve, smirk replacing the pained expression from moments before.

Scoffing, the Englishman looked up at the Italian, standing up ready to interject and show Italy that France and Prussia were just idiots, but a hand sneaked around his waist and kept him rooted to the seat, another hand covering his mouth.

"Eh, old man, what are you doing?" America stopped eating for a second and glanced quizzically at England, who was fuming and raging on his seat, unable to free himself from the tight grip of… Denmark?

"Poor Arthur," Denmark was smirking, almost apologetically. "He was just choking on one of Feliciano's cookies, right now… I just had to give him the heirich manoeuvre!"

Austria, who had been shuffling his documents impatiently, easily ignoring everything going on around him, raised one eyebrow.

"You might mean the Heimlich manoeuvre, Mathias" he corrected, graciously accepting a cookie from Hungary, not realising that her eyes were somewhere else –actually, making gestures with her free hand at Japan, mimicking the act of taking a photo.

"Yeah, that, whatever," Denmark didn't let England go, and instead winked at France, who winked back.

Now they owed him one alright.

Entirely blind to what had just happened, Italy finished holding up the milk's cup to Spain's lips and turned around, holding his hand for the thermometer. Prussia gave it to him, expression schooled back to that of pain, and watched with sparkling eyes as Italy's mouth widened in shock.

"V–ve~ it' 38.6°C! it's even higher than that of Antonio… oh, Gil… you are really sick!"

"Feli, what about me? I feel like I could faint right now…" France decided it would be appropriate for him to catch Italy's attention now, and he coughed miserably.

Skidding towards him, Italy felt his forehead with one hand, then leaned forwards, pressing his own forehead to that of France, who flushed terribly red, a small trail of drool trailing down his chin.

"Ah, you're all red, poor Francis… here, let me help you…"

Spain sniffled hard, feeling unjustly left alone, and glanced at the albino at his right, seeking a comforting gaze and instead finding crimson eyes focused on the Italian. Spain hummed for a moment, trying to find it in him to fight the growing haziness in his brain.

Something was not right, but he couldn't…

Italy slipped the thermometer under France's clothes, noticing the shiver of the Frenchman and nodding to himself.

They were really sick, the poor things, he couldn't just let them alone…

"Now, Francis, I'm bringing Antonio down to my car –we're all going at my house, I'll cook you some chicken broth and you'll rest and don't worry about anything…" Italy pressed a gentle kiss to France's cheek and turned towards Spain.

"Can you stand, Antonio?"

Fussing over him, Italy grabbed one arm and passed it over his own shoulders, helping Spain stand up. Spain swayed lightly, his head dizzy, but somehow didn't fall –Italy could actually show some unexpected strength.

"Feliciano, where are you going?" Austria looked up from his documents to see Italy trying to help a clearly sick Spain to the door.

He was growing quite expert at ignoring any unnecessary background chaos, and so far the meeting room was anything but quiet –Russia's bad-touching Lithuania in a corner, Czech Republic and Slovakia punching the living daylights out of each other, America explaining another one of his let's–create–a–giant–robot–to–prevent–climate–changes ideas, Japan discreetly flashing photos, Turkey smoking (so uncouth of him!), Greece sleeping…

Really, it was a miracle he could hold off so much. Germany was lucky that his boss had requested his presence elsewhere…

"Ve, Roderich, Antonio, Francis and Gilbert are sick, and I'm finished with the reports anyway… I'll bring them home now, if that's ok?"

Austria hummed, ignoring Hungary's pokes into his side, and checked Prussia's reports whilst the albino moaned in pain, clearly being overly dramatic.

Glancing at the Prussian, Austria cringed at the wide eyes stare he was receiving, crimson pupils looking at him much like a puppy would. Were there… were there tears in his eyes? Maybe he was really sick, after all…

"I could… I guess I could take Gilbert's place today, as I'm familiar with most of these…" he admitted, sighing.

Prussia inwardly cheered and stopped pinching his tight. It was worth it.

"Paco could get the reports for Antonio," Italy smiled at Portugal, who was currently tickling England held still by Denmark. The Portuguese Nation waved at him with a small nod. "Thank you!"

"Arthur here will have no problem filing Francis' documents, right Artie?" Denmark moved England's head up and down, still carefully holding his mouth shut.

As things like these were every–day events now, no one cared.

"Ve, you're all nice today~"

Still holding Spain close to his body, Italy left the meeting room, supporting the Spanish man to the elevator, down to his own car and into the front seat; by when they got there, Spain was shivering and clutching at the Italian's warm body.

"Wait here, I'll be right back with Francis and Gil!" Italy checked carefully to have all the windows close, opened the heater to a comfortable setting and ran back up to the meeting room, this time offering his shoulder to a clearly wheezing Prussian.

"Ah, Feli, you are really nice…"

Italy smiled softly, touched by Prussia's words. "I can't just let you be sick like this, _giusto_?"

One of Prussia's hands fell to Italy's behind and he squealed, momentarily blinded by a flash (a camera? Why?), then pushed the hand back to his side, holding it still.

"I know it's hard to hold on, Gil… but just wait till we get to the car…"

Prussia held in his snicker, blindly flashing a thumbs up behind his back at France, and leaned some more on Italy, groaning in pain.

"_Danke_, Feli…"

Italy cooed at him, and once at the car, he fastened Prussia on the backseat with the seatbelt, smiling at them and checking once more Spain's forehead, worried when he felt it even hotter than before.

"Ok, one last trip then we're set! Wait for me~"

As he disappeared back in the building, Prussia relaxed, cracking his fingers. It was a good day, a good day.

"You chose the perfect moment to get sick, _freund,_" he stated appreciatively at the wheezing Spanish man, who coughed weakly in his fist and glanced back at him.

"¿_Que_?"

"Nothing, nothing… please rest, will you? I'm sorry for picking at you before" Prussia chuckled and leaned back on the seat, staring at the front door.

Spain let out a soft groan and did as he was told, closing his eyes and falling into a restless sleep. It was a mild fever, but he truly got overly weak when sick…

The main door of the building opened again, and a flustered Italy appeared in the parking lot, France draped all around him, one of his hands falling to Italy's behind every few steps, even though France's excellent acting skills were making it look like he was on the brink of fainting.

Prussia found he could barely mask his cackle as a coughing, and tried to hide his smirk as Italy opened the back door and helped France sit down.

The moment the door shut close, France turned swiftly towards the Prussian and smirked.

"I managed to grope him five times!"

He fell silent as Italy opened his door and sat at the driver's seat, throwing a determined look at the now almost sleeping Spain.

He looked the worst of the three currently, with France clearly not that bad, since he managed to grope him a lot as he was helping him, but Italy was determined in nursing them all back to health.

"Don't worry! Ve~ I'll get you home and take care of you…"

"Say, Feli…" Prussia managed to cough pretty realistically, as Italy cringed at him "is there Lovi at home, too…?"

Italy shook his head "Oh, no~ boss needed one of us, and the meeting with the nations needed the other, so we played rock, scissor paper to see which one of us should go where…"

Prussia hummed.

"I got here, so I made cookies".

France and Prussia stared at each other as Italy carefully got out of the parking spot.

"W–what do you mean?"

"Well, since Lovi couldn't come, I made cookies".

Once again, France and Prussia exchanged a perplexed look, whilst on the front seat, Spain nodded, as if what Italy said made sense.

"Did… did Lovino bring cookies to his boss too, since you didn't go?"

"No, of course not" Italy pulled the car out to the road, turning around to smile brightly at the two. "He brought lasagne!"

Spain once again nodded as if he understood perfectly.

France and Prussia had no time pondering on Italy's quirks, because they were suddenly being swallowed by their seats, the screeching sound of wheels spinning wildly deafening, the car eating the road with the speed of a Mach3.

Italy happily turned a corner without checking for cars, honking following him as he sped up even more, the same nice smile on his face even when he showed his middle finger at a passing car on his left, blissfully ignoring all the red lights and all the stops.

At one point, somewhere before Spain opened his window to throw up outside the car and France started praying for his soul, a poor old woman started walking through the crosswalk, and Italy quickly halted the car with a horrible screeching sound, and Prussia stared in shock as the car moved for at least three meters more before stopping inches from the woman.

The woman waved at Italy with a small, grateful smile, and Italy waved back at her.

"Sorry, but you always have to let nice woman walk by, it's something gentleman should–" retching sounds from Spain's side stopped him. "Ve, Antonio, I'm sorry you feel so sick now… I'll try to go faster then–"

"N–no! Not faster! Please!" France grabbed Italy's seat, nails digging into the soft surface. "W–we can wait a bit more, j–just slow down, have _mercy_!"

Italy glanced quizzically back at them, then shrugged, and decreased the speed by a few kilometres per hour, even though the three could barely feel the difference.

The Italian nation kept looking back at France and Prussia to make sure they were ok, getting more worried each moment passing by –they were taking on the colour of candid sheets, and it wasn't a good sign.

As he was leaning back to press a comforting hand on Prussia's shoulder, blissfully ignorant of how Spain had finally passed out and France was screeching to not look away from the road, a loud, insistent beeping noise alerted Italy that the _carabinieri_ were on him.

With a pout, he pressed hard on the brakes, wincing as Spain's head lolled forwards and then fell to the side, clunking against the windowpane still half open.

A man dressed in dark clothes got close to his side of the car, motioning with his hand for Italy to lower the window.

"I'm sorry, but you were going at a speed higher than the limit" the man stated, looking at the passenger on the front seat and then at the two in the back, frowning. "Are they drunk?" his eyebrows lowered dangerously.

"Oh, of course not, _agente_…"

The man turned towards Italy, and froze.

France and Prussia, who had been thanking whatever God was up there for stopping the car, had suddenly the impression that the temperature of the car had dropped considerably.

The police officer also froze, staring into Italy's face. From the back seat, France could see the man's eyes widen exponentially.

"I was just bringing home my poor friends, _agente_… they're rather sick, and I wanted to put them in a bed as soon as possible… if you understand what I mean" when did Italy's voice get that low and… commanding?

France shivered –not entirely unpleasantly.

There was a long pause.

"Ah, sure, sure… please, go, I wouldn't want to… uh… stand between you and… ah, yeah" the man stepped away from the car, and retreated to his own without ever turning around, ashen white.

"Ve~ police is so nice with me!"

There was no further warning before the car bolted forwards again.

As he helped the three Nations into his house and up to his and Romano's bed –he was sure his brother wouldn't complain… well, not too much– Italy could only feel a bigger wave of pity for them, seeing how pale and wobbly they were.

"I'll cook you some hot broth now, you just rest in bed and don't move~"

The bed was big enough for three (Italy had insisted on buying a double instead of a second bed for his brother), and the Italian nation carefully covered the three with three blankets; Spain was in the right corner, the closest to the door (he had been the only one to vomit in the car, so Italy wanted him to have the shortest distance to the bathroom, just in case), Prussia in the middle and France on the other end.

Leaving the room with the door slightly open, Italy moved to the kitchen, humming a song as he did so.

Prussia pushed the covers away from his body, ignoring Spain's whines and cuddling more into his side of the bed, mumbling something about Romano and Italy.

"Kesesee~ we're in cute Feli's bed~"

Turning to the side, he realised France was gone, and he located him with his head into Italy's armoire, digging into the underwear section.

"Hey! Throw one to me, Francis!"

France shoved one of Italy's pants into his pocket and gave Prussia one as well, chuckling at the small Italian flags on a pair of boxers.

"Don't laugh too much, you have baguettes on yours," Prussia chided, drooling over the pants in his hands. "Anto~ you don't know what you're missing out!"

Spain groaned and hid his face into the pillow, wishing they could just let him rest. How could they be this energetic if they were sick till minutes before? They surely had unexpected reserves of energy…

Fifteen minutes passed by, with Spain almost dozing off and the other two busy messing around with the room, then when Italy's footsteps reached them, Prussia and France jumped back into the bed, Prussia elbowing Spain, who was startled awake again.

"Here, I have chicken broth…" Italy bounced in the room and smiled at the three.

France and Prussia were both awake and accepted the plate of food with a beaming smile, whilst Spain groaned something and tried to stand in a sitting position.

Italy cooed at him, holding the poor Spain in his arms and helping him up, feeling his forehead for fever.

"Eat something, it'll be good for you, ve~" gently, Italy picked up the spoon, dipped it in the broth and brought it up to Spain's lips.

Spain smiled a bit at him, and ate slowly the first few sips, blissfully ignoring the glares he was receiving from the other two.

One of Italy's hands rested on his cheek, holding his head still, and it was so warm Spain leaned more into it, nuzzling at it and making Italy smile in reflex.

"Is it good, ve?"

Spain nodded, and Prussia pouted, groaning a second later.

"M–my back aches… Feli, would you mind… oh, but I couldn't ask you that much…" Italy turned around, suddenly worried "ah, I'd like a massage, could you do it? Please?"

Chuckling, Italy let Spain sip a bit more broth before placing the plate on the bedside table, tucking the Spanish Nation under the blankets and giving him a few pills.

"Oh, of course, Gil~"

Prussia allowed Italy to slither into the bed, watching as he tried not to move too much so not to disturb the sleeping Spain, then Italy's nimble fingers unbuttoned Prussia's shirt, gently pushing it away and helping him turn around, his stomach down.

France licked his lips, slowly moving behind Italy, arms sliding around his waist, resting on his tights, close to…

"V–ve!" Italy squealed, almost elbowing France away, but the Frenchman was quick and pressed his forehead against Italy's back, simply nuzzling at it.

"You're warm, Feli…" he murmured, and to prevent him from pushing away, he refrained from groping him.

It felt good enough like this, anyway.

Throwing a glance at the mop of blond hair, Italy let his muscles relax slightly, and grabbing a small bottle of mint balm, he applied some of it on his hands.

"Now, Gilbert, you might feel a bit cold for a second…"

Prussia winced at the cool feeling, but then relaxed instantly, lulled into a blob of heaven by Italy's soft hands massaging his shoulders and upper back, moving lower on his spine, spreading the cool, fresh scent of mint as he did so.

He let out a soft breath, feeling almost guilty for using Italy like that when he wasn't really ill, but he didn't really care.

"T–that's amazing… Feli… keep going…" if he hoped to get a reaction out of Italy for his words, he was disappointed, because the Italian nation smiled warmly and just continued massaging.

"Feli… can I get some of that balm on my throat? It hurts…" nuzzling more against Italy's back, France tugged him away from Prussia, who let out a loud protest and kicked to the side, causing Spain to whine and curl more on himself.

Italy giggled, gently swatting France's arm, then unbuttoned his shirt as well, applying some of the balm on his neck.

Italy's hands on his neck were something akin to bliss for France, who closed his eyes and leaned forwards, shifting the Italian nation more and more into his lap, with Prussia shifting closer and closer, completely disregarding the still dozing off Spain.

"Ve~ is that ok, Francis?" looking up from his neck and upper chest, Italy almost backed away, not having realised just how close the other was… and bumped into Prussia's chest.

France leaned forwards, hands coming to rest on Italy's waist…

"Ah! I could read you something now~"

Smoothly slipping away from France's lap, Italy bounced towards the shelf of books and looked around for something to read.

The blond nation groaned and facepalmed, whilst Prussia snapped his fingers in anger.

"Damn, so close–"

"Did you say something, Gil~?"

"Ah, no, I mean… it would be nice of you to read something for us… and poor Antonio, here" Prussia patted Spain's shoulder, feeling lightly guilty.

"Do you still have the book I gave you for your birthday, Feli?" France was grinning, and Prussia stared at him, tilting his head.

Italy pouted "_Histoire D'O_? Unfortunately Ludwig got it before I could even start it and has yet to give it back to me… I'm sorry, ve~"

France sighed, looking to the side. What a waste, stupid perverted Germany…

"Ve~ no problem, I'll invent something for you~"

Flopping back on the bed, Italy nudged Prussia and France down against the pillows, and even Spain roused himself from his dozing off to cuddle closer to Italy, who snuggled between the three, giggling when Prussia held him close to his body and Spain grabbed one of his arms, using it as a pillow.

There was a moment of silence in the room, then Italy nodded.

"_C'era una volta~_"

Both France and Prussia exchanged a gaze, as Italy easily invented a crazy story about a painter, fantastic creatures and a beautiful princess to be saved. Both were thinking the same thing.

'_Just wait, I swear, next time…'_

**Omake**

Romano returned home with an empty lasagne plate and ready to tell his brother everything about the meeting with their boss, only to find his bed occupied by none other than the evil, perverted trio blissfully sleeping there –thankfully still clothed– and his brother cooing at them from a chair, holding a cup of tea and giggling to himself.

"What the _hell_–"

"Ah, welcome home, Lovi~ they were ill so I brought them home and took care of them~ aren't they cute?" Italy poked Prussia's cheek, making the slumbering nation frown and gurgle something, before cuddling more onto Spain's arm.

Romano stared in silence for a moment.

"… next time, _I'm_ going to the meeting, damn it!"

……………………………………………

**SOY:**That was it. I actually had to stop myself from having pr0n with France, Prussia and Italy with Spain sleeping blissfully on the side (I'm sorry, Spain…), but since OP of this hadn't asked for smut, I refrained…

Mathias – basically the name I ended up adopting for Denmark.

Paco – a random name for Portugal. Sorry if you don't like it, it was either that or Pablo…

Histoire D'O – a book about a woman who willingly goes through a whole lot of BSDM. A lot of what you think IS in the book. Wiki it if you want more information.

_Buongiorno a tutti (Italian)_ – Good morning everybody

_Bonjour (French)_ – Good morning

_Petit (French)_ – little

_Mon ami (French)_ – my friend

_Povero (Italian)_ – poor (as in, poor Antonio…)

_Mouchoir (French)_ – Handkerchief

_Prego (Italian)_ – You're welcome

_Oui (French)_ – Yes

_¿Que? (Spanish)_ - what?

_Gott (German)_ – God

_Cher (French)_ – Dear

_Très bon (French)_ – Really good

_Giusto (Italian)_ – right

_Danke (German)_ – thanks

_Freund (German)_ – Friend

_Agente (Italian)_ – officer (as in, police officer)

_C'era una volta… (Italian_) – once upon a time…


End file.
